Freed: Fifty Shades Freed as told by Christian novel Chapter 201

Monday, September 12, 2011

Ana is still asleep when I step out of the en suite. Frankly, I’m not surprised; she was persistent last night.

Sex-mad and insatiable indeed.

I’m not complaining.

That delectable memory fresh in my mind, I gather my clothes together and step into the living room to get dressed. The remnants from last night’s tryst are still all over the sofa. I untie the bathrobe belts and grab the towel, wondering what housekeeping would have made of this scenario if they’d come in early to clean. Folding the items, I place them on the console beside the bedroom door.

I order breakfast—it will take half an hour and I’m hungry. To distract myself, I sit down at the desk and open my laptop. Today, I want to arrange moving Ray to Northwest Hospital, where my mother can watch over him. I fire up my e-mails, and to my surprise there’s one from Detective Clark. He has questions for Ana about that asshole Hyde.

What the hell?

I send a brief reply to let him know we’re in Portland and he’ll have to wait until we return to Seattle. I call my mom and leave a message about moving Ray, then breeze through my other e-mails. There’s one from Ros: the Hwangs are inviting us to visit later this week.

That will depend on Ray.

I guess.

I e-mail Ros to say that it’s likely that I’ll be able to go, but I can’t confirm yet, as we’re not sure what’s happening with my father-in-law.

I don’t want to leave Ana to deal with this on her own.

As I press send, I receive a reply from Clark.

He’s coming to Portland.

Shit.

What can be that important?

“Good morning.” Ana’s sweet tone interrupts my thoughts. When I turn around she’s standing in the bedroom doorway, wearing nothing but a sheet and a shy smile. Her hair is a tousled mess that falls to her breasts, her bright eyes intent on me.

She looks like a Greek goddess.

“Mrs. Grey. You’re up early.” I hold out my arms, and in spite of the sheet, she bolts across the room, offering me a welcome flash of legs, and lands in my lap.

“As are you,” she says.

I cradle her against me and kiss her hair. “I was just working.”

“What?” she asks, leaning back to scrutinize me. She knows something is off.

I blow out a breath. “I got an e-mail from Detective Clark. He wants to talk to you about that fucker Hyde.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I told him you’re in Portland for the time being, so he’ll have to wait. But he says he’d like to interview you here.”

“He’s coming here?”